This picture really makes me sweat. There are two â€œincidentsâ€ â€“ which I will always remember – and know exactly where I was and what I did when I heard about them. One was 9/11 the other was when John Lennon was shot.
Me too. And I was actually only 8 years old when he was shot, yet still I recall it as a day of darkness, and it has influenced the way I think about weapon usage and ownership.
Looking at this picture over and over again makes me realize that I am not looking at the world through John Lennon’s glasses, but rather in a reverse way through the eyes of the killer, looking into the world of JL that could have been. The beautiful skyline of 5th Ave(I guess since the pic is probably taken from Ono’s home in the Dakota Building on the west side of the park), the haziness, the dreamlike world, New York City.
And then Ono grieving behind her shades, lending her pain to us, to ponder.
Is it Lennon’s blood on the glasses? Does it really matter?
It could be anybody’s blood.
Any body’s. And that is what weapons bring us: Dead bodies.